


A Toy for All Ages

by chibi_nightowl



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Childhood, Childhood Memories, Damian is a real boy too!, Father and son bonding, Gen, Legos, Nostalgia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 13:26:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16766032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_nightowl/pseuds/chibi_nightowl
Summary: Damian’s breath catches. His father, the Batman, playing with Legos? “Surely, you jest.”





	A Toy for All Ages

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this Tumblr post:  
> boyheroics  
> let damian wayne do mundane child things but let him to it in that extreme way of his!! like he discovers legos and hes obsessed, he replicates wayne manor and blows 800 bucks on the project. he finds glowing ceiling stars are a thing and he maps out detailed constellations on the ceiling. let damian wayne have fun

Damian has trained in stealth tactics since he could crawl and yet, all these lessons seem to go by the side of the road whenever even one of his older brothers is present. As much as it galls him to admit it, they’ve had much of the same training and more practical applications of it for years. So the fact he’s managed to keep this a secret for as long as he has is a minor miracle.

In a distant sitting room that no one aside from Pennyworth ever goes, he sets down his bag. On the old oaken table is a piece of poster board (placed there to protect the finish and any potential scratches) and a large structure made entirely from Legos. It’s Wayne Manor, his home, his legacy. During his explorations of his home, he’d discovered this quiet room and the old box of Legos neatly packed away on a shelf. This may have been a playroom at some point in the past, but he’s never asked since the baby grand piano points to more adult use as well.

Only Pennyworth knows his secret and Damian trusts the old man enough to keep his tongue. If any of his brothers discovered him playing with a child’s toy, there would be hell to pay.

Damian removes his newest acquisitions from his backpack. He’d drawn up a plan for what he needs, using sketches that he’d drawn from various points on the property to get the scale and angles correct. The mathematical computations need to miniaturize everything had taken hours, but was well worth it in the end. The only problem is buying all the pieces he needs without giving away where his allowance is going. So the project has taken months to get this far, but overall, he’s pleased with the effect.

He’s fully engrossed in his work when the door to the sitting room opens.

Leaping up from the table, Damian cringes when he realizes he has no avenue of escape. He’s been caught, redhanded. 

Bruce appears just as surprised as him. “What are you doing in here, Damian?”

“N-nothing, Father.” He stands and hides the Lego pieces he’s still holding behind his back.

But his father’s attention is on the scale model of their home. “That doesn’t look like nothing. Did you build this?”

Damian closes his eyes and sighs. As tempting as it is to try and lie, he knows better than to try when all the evidence points directly to him. Here it comes, the ridicule, the lecture that these are toys for children. “Yes, Father.”

A small smile appears on Bruce’s face, one that looks strangely nostalgic as he closes the door behind him and approaches the table. “This used to be your grandmother’s sitting room,” he says quietly. “She would play the piano while I built space ships with my old Lego set. Sometimes, your other grandfather would help me and we’d listen to Mother play.”

Damian’s breath catches. His father, the Batman, playing with Legos? “Surely, you jest.”

Bruce chuckles as he takes a seat at the table. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I was a boy once too. And I loved Legos.”

Biting his lip, Damian glances between his father and the unfinished wall he’s been constructing, then back again as an idea worms its way into his head. “Would you… Would you like to assist me?”

“I’d love to, son.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in maybe thirty minutes? Not a long piece, but one I want to have stand on its own.


End file.
